Submerged
by ShaleSubaru
Summary: A rather strange crossover-esque story involving a few well-known pirate personalities being thrown face-first into the 21st century. Follow Jack as he finds his feet in our time...and a few unwelcome surprises.
1. Surprises

A/N: This is something I've been dabbling with in the Davy Jones communities (LOL). Reason being - he'll be playing a major part later on in the story, though it primarily focuses on Jack.

This is right down the alley of what I used to write - 'what-ifs' in bizarre AU scenarios, yet they're certainly not comedies (discounting the antics of certain main characters). This one is a crossover, technically, as it uses Tekken storyline elements and a few characters to make it all gel together. You'll see what I mean.

This is a weird one. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I make NOTHING from this folly, and I certainly don't own PotC or Tekken; Disney and Namco do, respectively.

---

Blackness.

Darkness, coldness, blackness.

These were the only elements of awareness he had; the sheer darkness of his surroundings and their biting, sterile cold.

Slowly, bit by bit, his faculties returned to him and he was able to slowly, cautiously twitch his fingers and toes. It was at that point that the most obvious questions began to plague his mind with curiosity; as sensation returned to his body, the curiosity quickly mutated into frustration, then panic. What was going on? Where was he? And how the hell did he manage to get himself into yet another snag?

His eyes finally allowed themselves to be pried open; searing white light was what he got for his troubles, and with a somewhat pained groan he quickly shut them again. What, was he dead? That had to be the most intensely white light he'd ever had the misfortune of being blinded by.

As consciousness continued to return to him, be quickly became aware of people nearby. There were soft footsteps echoing about the place, like boots on a marble floor. There were hollow clatters unlike anything he had ever heard before; perhaps the closest thing he could liken it to was an army of large crabs scuttling across that marble floor in a cathedral, right next to his face.

Ew.

Despite his roaring, groggy head, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and dared to inch his eyelids open once more. It was still insanely bright, but the second time around it seemed somewhat more tolerable.

It was at this point that he realised he was sitting beneath one of the smoothest, cleanest sheets he had ever seen - stark naked of course, he noted. Great...what had he gotten himself into this time?

Fighting back the dizzy spell, he forced himself to drink in his surroundings visually. Frankly, he'd prefer to be drinking in a good bottle of rum.

Boy was that a mistake...he found himself staring out at a crowd of at least ten people; they were significantly smaller than him, blatantly of Asian descent and were all dressed in obnoxiously white coats. Though being surrounded by a throng of Asians reminded him of Singapore, the sheer whiteness of everything around him brought him to the assumption that he was nowhere near the Singapore he knew.

"Fantastic! You are finally awake." One of the men before him stepped forward, beaming with apparent pride. "Tell me. Do you know who you are?"

Silly question. And silly accent...somewhat different to the Singaporean accents, and equally as hard to understand.

"Why, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Now, do tell me...where in blazes am I?"

The group nodded amongst themselves in approval, clearly impressed. The man who had addressed him before grinned widely. "Mr Sparrow...welcome to Japan. It is an honour to have you amongst us."

Jack raised a brow, then reached to scratch his chin. What...no beard...nothing but a little bit of boyish scruff! What the...

Anyway.

"Now that's all fine and dandy, but frankly I want to be back on my ship, with my crew. Not stuck in here in this...place of extreme light." Squinting, he flicked his legs to the side - ready to hit the floor and march his way out of here, when he remembered his distinct lack of clothing as the sheets brushed against his body in a very, very intimate manner. He settled with dangling his feet over the edge of the bed with the sheets still draped over his nether regions. "Uh...how about this. You release me from here, let me find something to wear, and you will never have to worry about seeing Jack Sparrow again. Savvy?"

His audience seemed confused.

"But Mr Sparrow, we do want to see you! We-"

He cut him off before he could continue. "Why. Why do you want to see me? I'm of no interest to you, I'm just a sea captain. I want me ship. And..." he fidgeted with the sheets. "...I want me clothes."

"Oh..." Confusion abound, evidently. "Well...you have no clothes yet, Mr Sparrow. We-"

He cut him off again. "What do you mean? I had a pair of boots, a belt, a coat, a shirt...the whole lot. And a very nice hat. Where's my hat?" Impatience had begun to rise in his voice.

"And speaking of me personal effects...where's my hair?" It had become quickly obvious to him that his dreadlocks, his beads, everything...were long gone.

"Sir, may I explain?" The little Japanese man's patience was so endless it was beginning to irritate Jack.

He signed. "Go on."

"Well. My name is Nakamura Akio and I am the Genetic Research Manager here at G-Corporation." Jack's eyes quickly glazed over, and found themselves occupied examining the room he was in. "We are experts in restoring, and reconstructing bodies. Specifically, human bodies.We have recreated yours."

Jack cocked his head to the side, confusion and frustration getting the best of him. "Hold on. What happened to my body that would require any recreating or reconstructioning?"

Akio glanced at his colleagues nervously before continuing. "Mr Sparrow, you were dead. I am sorry."

Dead? What, again? Then again...it did seem like he was asleep for an absurdly long time. All he could remember after the Pearl was set upon by a fleet of vessels was an eternity of black. "How long have I been dead for, exactly?" Actually...the truth wasn't something he was sure he wanted to hear.

"Uh...almost three hundred years."

That was enough to have Jack's eyes glaze over once more. In fact, it was just a little too much for him. Thank goodness he was sitting on a bed, because with that moment, his eyes rolled back into his head as he promptly fainted.


	2. Adjustment

"Mr Sparrow, you've been in here for hours. Is there nothing else we can get you that will satisfy you?"

Jack stood - disgruntled - before the imposing full-height mirror, situated beside an open wardrobe, a mountain of discarded clothes and a dresser with half the wooden drawers pulled out and thrown, contents and all, on the carpet. "I already told you. I want the Pearl."

He fiddled with the buttons of his white dress shirt until they were all undone, then pulled the garment off and chucked it onto the ever-growing pile. "A crew..." He added thoughtfully, raising a pointed finger to head-height. "A crew would be good too." He took a few paces to the right and began digging through the pile of garments. A larger, baggier white shirt caught his eye...yes, that might just do. "A ship can't sail without a crew."

Akio was starting to show the first signs of exasperation at this point. "Sorry, sorry. But the ship you refer to - the Black Pearl - is on the ocean floor...she sank many, many years ago."

Jack held the shirt up in front of him and frowned. Oh how he hated his current look! He'd been told that during the resurrection process, which built him from the bones up, he had essentially lost all his hair. There was very little body hair left on him, even less than normal. His eyebrows and eyelashes had thankfully grown back quickly, but his beard and moustache were sparse and fluffy, and though he had a full head of hair, it was short and fluffy as if growing for the first time.

"This makes me look white as a ghost." He scowled again. Unfortunately, another side-effect of the process meant his hard-earned tan and hard-earned muscle tone were gone as well, along with his tattoos. With renewed youthful features, he barely looked older than his early twenties and like he'd lived indoors his whole life. Blegh.

"Perhaps this one, Mr Sparrow?" Akio held up a dark red shirt that would be most suitable with a corporate suit.

Jack cocked his head to the side. "Hmm...no. Red goes on me head. Speaking of which..." He began to rummage through the pile enthusiastically. "Why is there nothing to go on me head?"

"Like...a hat?"

"Yes, a hat. Amongst other things." A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Where's all the bloody rum..."

Akio perched himself on the edge of the nearby bed. Though this would be Jack's home for the next few weeks while he adjusted to life in the 21st century, Akio seemed to think he was making it homely just a bit too quickly.

Finally, Jack returned to the white shirt he'd plucked out earlier. A quick fight with the buttons led to his victory, and the garment proved to be a perfect fit - and not nearly as overly form-fitting as the previous dress shirt. "This'll do I s'pose. Now..." He began tossing aside pair after pair of trousers in an attempt to find one he liked. After all - he was standing there in nothing but a shirt and a pair of satin boxers.

Half an hour passed before Jack was finally somewhat satisfied with an outfit. It ended up being a rather casual business suit sans jacket, and though he felt like a damn fool, it was better than running around starkers.

Akio led him through the vast, sterile G-Corp hallways; naturally, they paused several times so Jack could poke at, admire or otherwise fiddle with items that caught his attention. Still...the growing smell of food was making the pirate's stomach churn.

"Starving. There better be some good grub around here!" With no provocation, Jack marched ahead of Akio and followed his nose...

...just around the corner to the cafeteria. A large room with ample supplies of food, plenty of chairs, and an entire wall of glass overlooking Tokyo city.

"Brilliant! Just what I'm after!" Jack marched onward, eyeing up a large fruit bowl sitting on a bench just a few metres into the room.

**BANG.**

Before he knew it, Jack had rebounded off something solid he'd apparently failed to see, and found himself sitting on the carpet, dazed and nursing an assaulted nose.

"Blimey! What in blazes..."

Akio stepped around him and grabbed a steel bar seemingly floating in mid-air...an invisible door opened as he pulled it aside. "Glass door, Mr Sparrow."

Jack stood back up, brushed himself off, pulled together what little dignity he had left and glared down at Akio. "I knew that." Without waiting for a response, he charged straight through and headed for the fruit bowl.

After devouring half the contents of the fruit bowl - apples, pears, bananas...he avoided all the exotic fruit he didn't recognise - Jack was introduced to G-Corp's buffet. Akio left him alone for a while once he'd managed to pile two plates full of tasty morsels...finally, some time to himself.

His perch by the giant cafeteria windows began to truly drive home the realisation that this was no longer his world. Jack couldn't even begin to comprehend the massive buildings reaching out to the sky around him, the millions of shiny, horseless carriages crawling around on the street below...the noise, the flashing lights, the sheer mass of human beings. He had almost literally been plucked out of the world he knew and completely submerged in something beyond alien.

Still...the chicken drumsticks of the future proved to be delicious!

_Curious,_ Jack thought to himself. _Those hovering things aren't bugs...they're a long way off!_

Even further into the distance was a mass of blue. Only one thing that could be...the sea! For the first time since his rude awakening in this strange world, he felt almost at home...yes, if he could get out of here, find himself a boat of any humble proportions, and head back out to sea...maybe pick up a small crew of scallywags if he could convince them to join him...things would be alright.

Further inspection of the mass of blue revealed hundreds and hundreds of little objects floating about on it. Ships, obviously. How different they were to what he knew, however, was a matter of debate in Jack's mind...heck, with all these bleeping, squawking, buzzing, glowing objects here in the future, who knows what humans had done to mutate boats from the simple but highly functional masterpieces they'd been for millenia previously.

Now, if only he could work out a way of getting out of this infernal maze of white walls...

A week or so drew on as Jack continued to adjust to this new world. He was woken up by the sun early in the morning, leaving him plenty of time to do his own thing before he was essentially led around the place on a leash for the rest of the day. As he discovered, baths were to be taken every day in this time...not just when you were an indistinguishable colour from pure dirt; and the one good thing they seem to have invented was the shower. There was nothing quite like glorious, fresh hot water pounding on the skin first thing in the morning!

The clothes pile had mutated into two; clothes he'd already worn, and clothes he was thinking about wearing but couldn't quite bear to put on just yet. Each morning he'd spend nearly an hour agonising over what ridiculous outfit to put on.

This particular morning saw him try a red shirt, black pinstripe pants and a pair of shiny black shoes...he still wasn't fond of the look, and had decided that first order of business once escaped from this bedlam was to get some 'real' clothes.

At least his beard had started to regrow in a more manly fashion!

Jack peered out the small bedroom window at the sun. Aw heck...still early...it would be at least another hour or so before the came and got him.

Bored.

Bored bored bored.

He recalled Akio had shown him how to use the black-box thing sitting on the dresser opposite the bed...but he couldn't for the life of him remember how. It had scared the bejesus out of him at the time, suddenly roaring to life in an epic display of colour and sound...no, he didn't need to have the wits frightened out of him at such an early hour.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Where was that infernal noise coming from? It had annoyed him to no end from the moment he got into the room...time to get rid of it!

Jack rummaged through everything he could find to rummage through in an attempt to find the wretched noise-maker and shut it up...through the bathroom, under the bed, in the wardrobe, in the drawers...

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

Argh!

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

Funnily enough, when he raised his head from under the bed, Jack noticed the sound was remarkably close.

Slowly, cautiously, he raised his head so his eyes could peek across the bedside table...it seemed almost as if all that noise, so quiet yet so irritating, was coming from a tiny little silver object sitting there. A silver strap...with a little circle in the middle of it. Interesting...

Jack carefully picked it up between two fingers, then held it at his ear.

Yep...that's what's making all that ticking...

Time for an examination...interesting. It seemed to have been divided up by numbers from one to twelve, with three little arms pointing in different directions. One was moving at the same time as the ticking.

"You tellin' me the time or something, little gadget?" Jack enquired quietly. "How remarkably clever."

Considering it appeared to be made out of silver, Jack slipped it stealthily into the pocket of his trousers. Might come in handy.

As for what to do with the rest of the morning...

To Hell with it. He went for the door, carefully turned the doorhandle, and peeked out.

Nothing.

What a golden opportunity...it was usually relatively busy out there in that corridor. Jack seized the opportunity as only he could do best, and slipped out of the door - being sure to close it after him.

Rather than head straight for the cafeteria - which he'd gotten out of the habit of calling the galley - he thought it a better idea to indulge in a little...reconnaissance.

With little effort, his search returned a set of stairs. Why not, he thought to himself. Let's try it. Up he went, climbing two floors before exiting back into the main part of the building. Corridors, corridors, corridors...

Voices!

Sparrow found himself ducking around a corner as quickly as he could to avoid detection...but it seemed, after a few seconds, that they weren't walking around. Rather, they were in a room nearby.

Bingo, a closed door a few yards further down the corridor.

With his signature slippery stealth, Jack crept up to the door and silently placed an ear against it.

"...but what are we going to do with that Sparrow character? He's a pirate, Akio says. No use to us." That accent was not a 'local' accent...it was distincly the Queen's English! Sparrow shuddered...it reminded him of Cutler Beckett.

"I imagine we can send him away. He is not adjusting as well as the others have." That one, however, was a distinctly Japanese-laden accent.

"Yes, but most of the others were not complete reconstructions. This was a bad idea."

A third voice piped up. This one was that of a woman. "Only a few have been like him and they have still adapted."

"You must remember the Jones incident, however..." The Japanese man interjected.

A moment of silence.

"You have to admit," the British voice added, "That the Jones incident was almost exactly like the earlier Mishima incident. The only key difference was their choice of weapon..."

"We can't afford to let Sparrow go the same way as the last two...he is far more unpredictable. Though, that being said..." the woman continued, "He doesn't seem quite as bright as the other two, does he?"

The sound of shuffling papers had Jack jerking his head from the door and beating a hasty, but silent, retreat. Within no time he had fled down the hall, down two flights of stairs, and was casually making his way towards the cafeteria before anyone suspected anything.

By the time he had served himself a hearty breakfast of whatever he could find at the buffet, Akio arrived in the cafeteria, flustered and somewhat panicked.

"Jack! Mr Sparrow! There you are!" He ran over, gasping for air, and sat in the seat opposite him.

"Yes, there I am." Jack enthused through a mouthful of bacon as Akio pulled his steamed-over glasses off to polish them clean with a rag. "What's all this fuss about?"

"Ah. We were looking for you. You weren't in your room."

"And?" He swallowed his mouthful and replaced it with another. "I was hungry. You people sleep in too long, lazy landlubbers. I'm up with the sun in the morning...why is it such a major event if I simply help myself to me own breakfast?"

"There is no problem..." Akio seemed exceedingly nervous this morning, and Jack was never one to let such an observation slide.

"Then why in blazes are you so fired up? You look as if someone's slipped gunpowder into your breeches and 'as just struck a flame..."

"Oh. No reason. Don't worry!" He smiled reassuringly. "We have a busy day ahead of us Mr Sparrow, we are going to teach you how to use a computer..."

"A what now?" He murmured through a mouthful of toast. "Another of your strange contraptions designed to scare the good sense out of someone like myself?"

"That is...one way of putting it."

"Do I have to?" There was a gruff whine in his voice...he was growing tired of these games.

"Well yes, you do..."

Akio allowed Jack to finish his truly enormous breakfast before dragging him off once again to another full day's activities.


	3. Banished

Despite the cold, dry air and the deadly silence in the echoing chamber, Jack Sparrow hardly made a sound as he tip-toed around. The room could only really be described as just that, a chamber; its high ceiling saw no light and the walls were so far away once he reached the centre that they seemed to be shrouded in darkness.

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. It had been over a month since Jack had last snuck out of his bedroom for anything more than a meal, but curiosity and the desperation for freedom had once again led him on a mission.

There had been some odd rumours about the place lately that it seemed no one had noticed Jack had overheard. One was that he was to be 'released' because he was of 'no use', being a pirate rather than a 'man of morals' (whatever the hell that meant).

Another was that there were several more like him that had caused sheer chaos; two in particular were rebellious souls, desiring freedom as much as Jack. Possibly more. One mysterious character had managed to find himself a gun and had pistol-whipped his way to freedom. According to the rumours, not one shot was fired - but he had wrangled his way free with feet and fists alone, dealing plenty of blows in the gun-vs-face method. The other had flipped out and wielded a kitchen knife as he forced his way clear of the place.

Not that Jack hadn't made his own attempts. On an away-mission to educate him about 'cars' - specifically not to run in front of them - he had tried to slip away, and managed to hide for a good ten minutes before he was swiftly tracked down. Playing dumb and using the hungry excuse had worked well; the people around here believed Jack to be far less intelligent than he was, which more than worked to his advantage.

And now here he was, staring at a rather strange sight indeed. The far wall, as he discovered, were lined with large, frosted-over glass tubes...interesting. Curiosity burned within his veins as strongly as the urge to seek and pilfer treasure; before he knew it he was wiping away some of the frost on one of the tanks with his bare hand.

What was inside was more than a surprise for him - the sight of a human body within the tank had him almost breech his silence, though he managed to swallow his startled cry. _What the..._

He pressed his face up against the frost-free patch he had created. It was an adult, caucasian in origin as far as he could tell. A woman too._ Nice tits..._

So this was where G-Corporation did their 'resurrection' business.

A few other tanks showed a few other facets of their research...one contained a man who had lost limbs and flesh all over his body, and it seemed to be growing back flesh-over-bone within the tank. Another was a mere skeleton with organs and flesh forming over the top; not pleasant.

However, the final tank in the room had him reeling back in shock. Perhaps he was going mad...but perhaps the figure inside was indeed as familiar as he thought; he could have sworn that face belonged to someone he never wanted to see ever again.

_That better not be you, Beckett._

Jack glanced down at the silver watch on his wrist...nearly seven in the morning...breakfast time. A quick check of the other tanks over his shoulder showed the frost-free patches to be icing over rapidly - good. No one has to know. Beating a hasty but stealthy retreat, Jack navigated his way out of the chamber and back down the maze of hallways towards the cafeteria, determined that no one would realise he'd been anywhere other than his quarters or the cafeteria.

By the time Akio arrived in the cafeteria, Jack was halfway through the usual enormous breakfast.

"Good morning, Mr Sparrow." Akio pulled up a chair and parked himself opposite the feasting pirate.

"'ello Akio. What hoops have you got for me to jump through today?" The sarcasm in Jack's voice was perhaps a little too subtle to be caught by anyone not looking for it.

"None today." Akio beamed. "We believe you're ready to live your own life out here in the new world now...you can use a computer, you understand traffic, you understand electricity, you can perform basic tasks..."

Jack paused halfway through obliterating a rasher of bacon. "So...you're letting me out of this brig of a place? Free to do my own bidding?" Laughing triumphantly, he slapped Akio on the shoulder a couple of times from across the table. "I knew you'd come 'round!"

Akio smiled nervously. Naturally, he still hadn't quite adjusted to Jack's enthusiastic mannerisms. "Well, uh...there is something. We will not be keeping you in Japan...too busy, too scary. We are sending you somewhere a bit more...familiar, I suppose."

"Familiar?" _Bit of a strong word to use in regards to this place,_ Jack thought to himself. "How do you get 'familiar' out of being stuck three centuries ahead of oneself?"

"Less technology, less people. Trust me Jack, you will like it."

---

_So how'd I wind up in this mess now?_ Jack pondered.

He was standing in between a few rows of chairs, surrounded by bags, a large cardboard ticket in one hand and another clenched tightly by his side, resisting the urge to beat the nearest muppet senseless.

Apparently they were sending him across the world.

Not only that, but to add to the indignity, it was via a method Jack had very quickly decided he loathed.

Sitting outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows was the biggest metal bird he'd ever laid eyes on. He knew what it did too...by some force of dark magic, it propelled itself through the sky at blistering speed, carrying with it several hundred people and tonnes upon tonnes of cargo. This particular one was predominantly white, but had a deep green tail with a white arrow emblazoning it, curled in on itself on the ends. Strange design...

"You ready, Mr Sparrow?" Akio was standing beside him, as always, trying to be helpful but essentially just getting in the larger man's way.

"No." Jack responded bluntly. "I'm not a bloody bird, I don't fly."

"Plane flies for you." Akio stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but I'd rather sail. Hell, I'll even swim if it means I don't have to bloody fly." He wrinkled his nose as people started to head down the long corridor toward the plane. "If I live through this, I'm going to come back and kill you."

Akio laughed nervously. "You'll be fine, Mr Sparrow. There is a stewardess aboard who will take care of you...and someone to meet you at the other end and show you around." He gently pushed his shoulder in the general direction of the boarding gate. "Go...and good luck!"

Jack sauntered forward awkwardly, an expression of total bedazzlement, apprehension and confusion welded firmly across his features. What the hell was he getting himself into...

"Ticket please, sir." A rather attractive-looking Japanese woman held her hand out, smiling sweetly.

Jack handed her his ticket, staring down blankly at the machine that ate it and spat it out the other end. Such a strange world...

Grasping it again as it was handed back, he sauntered down the corridor towards the plane. _Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide..._

Everything was a wild but distant buzz around him as he finally stepped foot on the plane and was shown his seat. The vacant, lost expression on his face gave away his complete bewilderment and before he knew it, his bags were taken and stowed in compartments above his head, and he was practically pushed down into his seat. Right by a window._ Oh bugger..._

Time seemed to stand still as people packed themselves in and the plane finally began to slowly trundle away from the terminal; the captain made the usual announcement as the plane taxied towards the runway and the stewardesses marched up and down offering drinks. Naturally...Jack grabbed at least a few.

Final warning for the madness that he had grown to fear. Time to take off. With his wine already downed like candy-water, Jack shoved the plastic cups aside and gripped onto the armrests like a crab on a fisherman's pants. _Oh bugger...oh bugger..._

Engines let out a roar from the depths of Hell and Jack felt his entire body being sucked into the seat; he did all he could do to save himself. And that thing was pray like never before...to the gods, to Calypso, to anyone that would listen...

...pray that the rum would be served soon so he could simply sleep through this madness!

---

Twelve long hours later, his feet finally hit solid ground again; it took all of his self-control not to throw himself on the carpet and cling to it with joy. Nope...he would never 'fly' again. There was nowhere near enough rum, way too much being thrown about like a ragdoll, not nearly enough room and far too many people. Yuck.

At least the final section had been interesting. The place he was going to seemed to be mostly coastal, with very little land mass and more than enough beaches, harbours, bays...and boats! Perhaps Akio was right...perhaps he would be happier here.

Following instructions proved to be harder than he had originally thought. This strange 'customs' rigmerole had him baffled for the better half of thirty minutes but at least when it was all over there was some large brown guy waving a banner with his name on it. Great, a fanclub...or at least, a welcome party.

Once Jack had approached the man and given his name, his hand was grabbed in a bone-crunching handshake and the opposite shoulder slapped with the force of a buffalo. "Kia Ora, bro! Welcome to Aotearoa!"

Confusion flooded his sensibilities. "I thought I was being sent to New Zealand or something to that effect."

The man laughed loudly. "New Zealand is the Pakeha name for it, bro! Anyway...I'm Paul, and I'm going to show you around the place then take you to your new home..." He picked up all of Jack's bags and hauled them onward as if they were empty, leaving Jack to scuttle after him in an attempt to catch up.

Once he did, he thought he'd better ask a pertinant question - considering he couldn't understand half what this thick-accented Paul fellow was saying. "I don't have to learn an entirely different language here, do I?"

Again, Paul laughed enthusiastically. "Nah, bro. English is sweet as...though by the sounds of it you'll find New Zealand English to be pretty different from yours."

"That's an understatement." He muttered under his breath.

Within no time his bags were loaded into the back of a large, white car, and they were off. Paul had gone to task explaining anything and everything - Auckland was the city they were in, and it was far smaller than Tokyo. Less technology, far more nature. Jack had been given money, a house, belongings, and had been offered training for any job he might like to take up. Still...G-Corporation would support him for as long as he needed.

Though it was all rather overwhelming, Jack tried to absorb as much as he could. Information was a dangerous weapon, and he'd need the biggest armada of weaponry he could muster in order to get some control over his runaway life.

After all, one is not a pirate if not an opportunist.

The sun had begun to set as his tour of the city ended, and he was taken to his new residence. It was a quiet, leafy suburb a little south of the city, and a little house hidden down a long driveway was where he would live from now on._ For a while, anyway_, he mused.

A quick tour of the house revealed three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and two living areas. There was a TV, a computer (damned if he could tell the difference to be honest, they were both strange, alien concepts and both things he could live without), a fridge, an oven with a stovetop, a microwave (a device invented to make metal objects catch fire and explode, he had learned - the hard way)...everything needed for a modern lifestyle and thus things he couldn't see he had a use for.

Leaving him with the information that the bus stop was a few doors down and the supermarket (which he explained to be a shop that sells EVERYTHING) just up the road within walking distance, Paul headed off for the evening. Completely overloaded by so much new information and yet another new environment, Jack neglected to do the usual search-and-pilfer mission and simply crashed into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as he hit the covers. It had been a hard six weeks...nothing was familiar any more, nothing was in his control, and frankly, he was lonely.

What was isolation?

A complete vacuum of things you know and love.

Jack had to admit...he was isolated. Completely, totally isolated.

Still, his dreams were more positive than usual as he drifted off into the land of nod. There were so many boats here - Auckland was known as the 'City of Sails', and there were so many bays near his new home. With this information, what would any red-blooded pirate dream about?

A boat. A ship, perhaps. Freedom from this new world, this madness. The freedom to be reunited with his one true love.

The Sea.


	4. Life Goes On

"Hold your fire, prepare to broadside!" Captain Sparrow screamed over the roar of crashing waves and yelling men.

"Aye, captain!" The First Officer cried, changing the _Black Pearl_'s course accordingly.

The Pearl came about and pulled herself parallel with the enemy vessel, the _Mellow Yellow_. It was a sturdy, robust ship, but the crew was flighty and Sparrow highly doubted they had the skills to outmatch the _Pearl._ A ship is nothing without a good crew.

Time seemed to stand still as the two vessels fought their way amongst immense ice caps; these were treacherous waters, and sometimes no amount of skill could navigate a ship free of its razor-sharp grasp.

The enemy was lined up perfectly. It was time.

"FIRE!"

Echoes of the same order rang through the ship, followed swiftly by enthusiastic cannon fire.

The _Pearl _passed range of the _Mellow_; she was not sinking but her crew was panicking. "Come about, we'll be going in for another round. It ain't over until it's over!" Sparrow barked orders as he marched across the deck.

It seemed, however, that he had no need to go in for a second round. Out of nowhere, a massive whirlpool appeared beneath the _Mellow_; the smaller ship found itself swirling around, around, being sucked into the vast vortex. Was it a work of the infamous sea goddess?

"Keep us away from that thing! We don't need to be joining her in the Locker!" Sparrow shuddered just thinking about that place. Heck no, he'd never go back there.

Just as the _Mellow_ disappeared from the water's surface, the vortex suddenly disappeared completely. But where had the _Mellow_ gone?

_SPLOK!_

With the force of the Gods, the Mellow was launched high into the air; it came down with a deafening splash, sending a torrent of waves crashing against the hull of the _Pearl_.

"Blast." Announced the _Pearl_'s captain half-heartedly. "I've lost half me bathwater."

He reached to turn the tap back on, hot water gushing forth and pounding down on the little rubber boat floating precariously below it. It popped free, bumping into a yellow rubber duck a few inches away.

_On second thought..._he paused to turn the tap off. _Time to get out of here anyway._

He curled his toes around the plug chain and pulled it out once more, letting the swirling, belching vortex suck the warm water and mountains of frothy bubbles away. Jack stepped out of the bath and straight into a large fluffy towel...he was starting to get used to this 'technology' thing.

Towel biffed aside, Jack stood himself in front of the full-length mirror and observed the reflection staring back at him. He had been in this hellish new existence for three months now - but at least he was regaining his original appearance. Months of intense exercise outdoors had earned him his muscle tone and his tan, though this time around he seemed a little bigger. His diet was far more healthy these days and he spent more time moving about than he used to. After all - hard work was for crewmen, not captains.

His beard had fully grown back now too, though he had foregone the beads and braids on his chin. Added to that was his hair, finally brushing his shoulders in thick, dark brown locks. He'd decided that he'd wait until it was long enough to put it right - back the way it used to be. Further down his body had regained the hair it should have had earlier - gone was the boyishly-smooth skin he'd grown to loathe. At least...between the waist and the knees. Jack was not a particularly hairy man, and women seemed to prefer it that way, but there's a minimum amount that makes one a boy or a man!

At least he had one thing to be content with. His looks.

Once done gazing at his reflection Jack grabbed his clothes and proceeded to get dressed. A pair of boxers (apparently it's taboo to 'go commando' in this era), a pair of black trousers, a white shirt (which only made it half way up the length of buttons before it was left open), and of course, a red bandanna. Not quite the look he was used to, but it would do. He'd learned to ditch the bandanna when leaving the house - it got too many strange looks.

Breakfast time!

Something he'd quickly grown to like was the Fridge. Days worth of good food, kept in brand new condition...who could argue the good purpose of such a contraption? Still, he had only used the cooking equipment in the kitchen a few times...he had discovered a good bit of 'kiwiana' in his own backyard. The 'barbeque' was one thing that reminded him of home; it was not one of the modern gas-fired or electric BBQs, but rather, an old coal-heated stand-alone unit with a simple grille and a box of metal utensils.

As usual, Jack grabbed whatever was of interest in the fridge and dumped it on the bench. After pouring himself a glass of juice, he took a tray of goodies to be cooked outdoors; he was fond of a cooked, hearty breakfast, and what better way to do it than the old-fashioned way?

Within no time the BBQ was lit and breakfast was cooking away happily. Jack had parked himself by the table outside, devouring the uncooked portion of his meal. Sure, it was a lengthy procedure for the start of any day, but almost every morning he did it - it was something remotely familiar. That, and a good breakfast kept him going most of the day...until it was time to break into the rum.

Not that modern rum was any match for the original stuff. It was candy-water nowadays! As he devoured the tasty, piping-hot morsels, Jack found his mind reliving the delicious taste of his favourite beverage. Many found it too strong, too unrefined...but that was the landlubbers' opinion. This 'Coruba' stuff claimed to be Caribbean Rum, but it hardly fit the description in his opinion.

Breakfast demolished and BBQ cleaned the 'Heinekin way' - that is, a stubby poured over the hot grille to remove all residues...a waste of good booze but an effective cleaner - Jack had the rest of the day to entertain himself.

But with what?

As usual, there were no crewmen to order around. No ship's chores to be done. No treasure to hunt, no enemy ships to plunder...what an empty existence.

Jack knew he had to find something to do, permanently, to occupy himself. Perhaps there was the old-fashioned way of getting what he desired most...sneak in the back door through seemingly honest proceedings to land himself a ship and a crew, and be done with it. Perhaps there would be something modern he could do.

But how would he find such things?

Oh hell...why hadn't he thought of that before? The computer would tell him!

Smirking, he plunked down in the computer chair and placed his hand on the mouse. He remembered that the little grey contraption was what controlled the little 'cursor' on the screen - he thought of it as his finger inside the little box in front of him. Clever, really.

But the screen was black...not doing anything!

Power...wretched power...why couldn't things run the easy way, the old way! He knew there was a button...a button with a circle, cut by a vertical line...that would bring almost any modern device to life. Brain of the computer...big box. Big box...under the table! What the heck was it doing under there? Oh well.

Jack hit the button and the computer swung into action. A short boot sequence later, it had logged itself in and was presenting Jack with a photo of the harbour filled with yachts...icons lined the left side of the image. Great...maybe he shouldn't have left it so long before he fired the wretched machine up. He'd almost forgotten how to use it.

"Blimey. Why are you such a clever little thing, but you can't simply obey orders? That would make it far easier, you know." He muttered at the screen. A wiggle of the mouse jogged his memory though...to make the computer tell him things he wanted to know, he had to find that blue 'e' with a line through it. Internet, wasn't it? He thought of it as a library he could access without having to find, search through and read the books themselves.

Bingo! It was hiding by a button labelled 'start'. He navigated the cursor over to it awkwardly, thought a moment, then stabbed the left button on the mouse. Within a moment, a Google window popped up...fantastic.

Now...what did he want the computer to tell him?

"Boats...ships...jobs...bugger. What DO I want?"

After a spectacular display of slow hunt-and-peck typing, he'd typed in all three terms - minus the bugger - and hit the search button. Once again, modern technology proved itself to be more than a pretty trinket; the search page was littered with results regarding boat building, working on a ship, selling boats, working in the navy...you name it.

Jack smirked. It seemed that treasure didn't necessarily need to be a tangible object.

---

The Domain in Newmarket - why hadn't he found this glorious place before? It was a field of green carved into the likeness of a lovely English garden, the highest hill in the world of foliage topped with an immense building whose building style was remarkably reminiscent of those that existed in Jack's time. The Auckland War Memorial Museum, it was labelled...but Jack thought 'just like home' suited it just as well. Parked under a tree with a handful of paper, he'd enjoyed the latter half of the day relaxing in the sunshine, away from almost anything resembling modern technology.

It was late in the afternoon by now, but the sun was still high. He'd spent the earlier half of the day on a treasure hunt - hunting for a career through all the sources he'd found. After an interview, it seemed he would make an excellent boat salesman - if only he could fulfil a few extra requirements.

He would like the job by the sounds of it - telling people how wonderful these boats were, give them examples of their performance (his favourite part), and keeping a good portion of the sale for himself once they'd bought it (his second favourite part). Only problem - he needed to learn to drive.

Eek.

He hated the bus, he hated cars, he hated traffic. He'd have walked to Newmarket if it wasn't ten kilometres from where he lived! Curse it all.

Oh well...yet another task for him to learn before he could capture the moment and make it his own. Time to get back home. Hungry, tired and somewhat overwhelmed, it was time for this little pirate to get some rest and some good tucker.

As he headed down the slope toward the bus stop, a pair of hauntingly blue eyes watched him from a distance. Their disbelief was almost completely masked as they followed the man; could it be? Could that be Jack Sparrow? Or perhaps someone that looked remarkably like him?

The visage of the larger, red-headed man had all but melted into the shadows of a large willow tree. He was youthful, but those pale blue eyes seemed wiser than their years. Far wiser. Ginger, nearly blonde locks of hair fell about the man's shoulders, fluttering lightly in the wind - despite being dressed and groomed to a perfectly normal standard, anyone passing him by would probably dare to look twice.

Determination washed over the striking blue orbs as Sparrow disappeared. He would get to the bottom of this mystery even if it killed him.


	5. Velocity

**A/N:** Chapter has been edited...minor edit for now, extension of a scene...but it REALLY needed it.

Rokhal - thanks for the last review, it helps when someone comes along and baseball-bats you out of your own little world. Lol. Writing when sleepy and focussing on other stories (other is an Initial D fic, go figure) is bad. Bad bad bad. Haven't changed a lot as it is sort of going the way I want it, but I've added more Jack Sparrow with the addition of another scene. And don't you worry, he's not going to be holding down the 'honest job' for very long ;)

Edit: -insert much profanity here- Why'd I copy-paste PHAIL? ARGH. Oh well.

_---_

_JERK-YERK-YERK-YERK-YERK-YERK._

"...bugger."

Scowling, Jack Sparrow stared down at the steering wheel of the car he was attempting to drive. Why was this all so difficult? His attempt at getting it moving had resulted in some violent bunny-hopping across the carpark, and after that last escapade, he was feeling throughly dizzy.

"Oi go easy on yourself Jack, everyone bunnyhops the shit out of a manual the first few times they try." The woman seated calmly in the passenger seat to his left simply smiled at him. "Just keep trying until you get it. Remember; push the clutch to the floor, put the gearstick into the first gear position, then raise the throttle slightly with your right foot. Keep it at around fifteen-hundred, then ease the clutch out."

He sighed, thought about it for a moment, then made an attempt at following her instructions. Clutch squeaked down, gearstick was crammed awkwardly into first gear...he spent a few seconds trying to find how hard he had to push the accelarator to find 1500rpm.

"Ease out. EASE out. Don't rip it out."

"You make it sound so bloody easy." He grumbled as he did just that; eased the clutch out, and just when he thought the blasted thing was going to bunny-hop on him again, it simply wobbled and jerked uneasily into action.

"Funnily enough, it is bloody easy once you get the hang of it..." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Like I said; don't worry, most people make complete and utter asses out of themselves the first time."

With the little silver Impreza sedan finally moving, Jack took the time to explore this new experience. He piloted the purring Subaru around the carpark slowly, circling awkwardly around a few trees planted here and there throughout the lot.

Perhaps his success at any attempt to drive an automobile sat squarely in the fact that he'd studied the theory and workings of internal combustion engines and the technology behind them, so he had a basic idea of what it was that he was operating here. It seemed like a brilliant idea to him - the force of explosions contained within a strong metal contraption, and essentially harvested and changed into turning force.

He even knew that the vehicle he was driving had an EJ15 engine in it. He knew nothing of what that meant aside from the fact that it was a 1.5L motor with four pistons, which strangely faced each other horizontally in a 'boxer' configuration rather than the standard vertical line most engines were made in. This little car's engine put the power down to the front wheels only...the back, he assumed, were only there to hold the car's arse off the ground.

"Okay, here comes the fun part. You're going to change gears."

"What? But I've only got the blasted thing into first gear...I'll break something!"

"Nah. You'll be fine, bro." His instructor tapped the gearstick. "While you're moving in a straight line, just push the clutch in, push the gearstick down - and towards me - then pull the clutch up gently. Once you're done, put your foot back on the accelarator."

"Blimey." His tone was a mere growl...more of exasperation than anything. Still, he complied. In went the clutch, down went the gearstick, out came the clutch, and the car jerkily surged forward with a deepened growl and renewed enthusiasm.

"Wicked. Feels different, doesn't it?"

Going around the trees was a little more challenging this time. Still, his only other memorable experience in a motorised vehicle - aside from the plane - was the bus. It was a weekly if not daily event. As such, the little Impreza seemed so light, so manoeuvrable, so _simple_ to drive.

"I could grow used to this." Jack actually smiled. "This ain't as bad as I'd thought originally..."

The lesson continued on, with Jack learning the basics of stopping a car, getting it moving again, manoeuvring it around. Despite his setback of nearly three centuries technologically, he was learning quickly and getting to grips with the vehicle faster than many other students that had learned in the silver runabout.

Still, once it was all over, Jack was utterly exhausted. It was starting to get later in the afternoon and it isn't exactly easy learning how to drive.

He took the bus to the supermarket just past his home to get something quick and easy to have for dinner. Modern times took a lot of getting used to, but it was something Jack was displaying a knack for. After all - he didn't become the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow for being slow and stuck in his ways.

The pre-prepared meals aisle saw a visit from him for the first time ever. One meal didn't look like enough...so he grabbed two; he also took a detour through the alcohol aisle...mmm, booze. No rum or whiskey, unfortunately...but two bottles of red wine would do in its place.

After once again having a battle with the EFTPOS machine at the check-out he was on his way home. It was a short but refreshing walk through the thickly tree-smattered suburb, decorated with the sounds of children here and there playing, giggling and running about, and the occasional car. If Jack were a 21st Century-born man, he would have chosen to live here most likely.

But he wasn't a 21st Century-born man, was he?

His fight with the microwave proved that point. It was all very well to have instructions to cook the meals for eight minutes, but getting the microwave to reflect that order was an entirely different matter! Still, he finally worked it out after much sailor-speak...

...time for some booze.

A rather refined and expensive-looking glass, at least by his standards, was brandished from the cupboard above the oven; after he'd located and wrestled the cork-opener, he filled the glass to near the brim from one of the two bottles he'd bought.

Dinner finally cooked itself and after some yelping at the sheer heat of the containers, Jack was settled happily - or as happily as he could be - at the dining table with his tucker. The food tasted somewhat fake, but the sweet, refined and well-polished flavours of the wine more than made up for it. If there was one thing he could give this century, they knew how to make their booze. He'd prefer a little more manly roughness to it, but the deep and oaky flavours of the brew were still to his taste.

Alcohol - the ultimate in relieving weight from one's shoulders.

He didn't stop once dinner had all gone; instead, he migrated outside with his bottle and glass, and perched himself on the deck outside. What a fine spot...though the house was a single-storey building, its land sloped away from the road and resulted in the back deck being a full storey above the ground below.

His possie from the reclining wooden chair overlooked the immense park that resided behind the row of houses; it was surrounded by tall, lush pine trees at the perimeter, lathered in thick, green grass from end to end, and sported a large wetlands at the very centre that was simply teeming with exotic birdlife. The ponds and little rivers were ringed by a gravel path that people often either walked or ran through, or cycled through, often followed by their canine pets.

The view from his deck allowed him to see most of the park as he sipped glass after glass. Sun setting behind the trees in the distance, rather than over the horizon of a vast ocean, Jack felt even more homesick than ever. Oh, what he'd give for just a glimpse of the ocean...just a little time on a boat...

Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was his true feelings coming out finally. Whatever it was, it was stopping Jack from being able to fight back a single tear which clawed its way forth and trickled shamelessly down his cheek. They might as well take him away, strap him up and throw him into a gaol cell with no hope of seeing the light of day again. It couldn't possibly make him feel any more lost or lonely. Or out of place, for that matter. If nothing else, the feeling that he was so simply and plainly _different_ from every other human being on the planet was eating him away, flesh and bone.

The exact opposite of what G-Corporation had done to him.

As the sun finally slunk down behind the trees, Jack sauntered back inside to retrieve and open the second bottle he bought. He had a feeling he needed it if he had any intention of getting sleep tonight.

---

Six months had seen some interesting developments indeed. The next door neighbours on either side of his long driveway had all turned out to be decent and friendly people - in fact, the man living with his beloved family in one of the houses turned out to be a scientist. Naturally, Jack had found someone he could talk to about his past, and what he was doing here. The man - whose name was Nate - seemed unusually understanding in regards to G-Corporation but also remarkably helpful in developing Jack's understanding and ease with the modern day.

He'd also learned how to rollerblade with the kids on the other side of the driveway...a bizarre, confusing, somewhat painful but thoroughly fun experience indeed!

A much-desired improvement had also been his continually developing appearance. His beard was now exactly how he wanted it, aside from the braids and beads. His hair was starting to creep down his shoulderblades...almost long enough to do something with. His physique was just how he wanted it: solidly-built and lithe without being bulky, and with his current lifestyle, particularly strong and quick.

Several interviews had landed him a job, finally. A boat sales company on the North Shore of Auckland was more than happy to hire him for his personality and the fact that he sold himself to them so convincingly; in fact, because of his accent, they thought it would be ideal to make a big deal out of it and 'dress him up' as a 'pirate' on some days...after all, when selling boats to the well-to-do, it's personality and the X-factor that's going to do it.

But perhaps the most recent success for him was one he was currently staring straight at. He had parked arse on the bonnet of the little silver Impreza he'd learned to drive in, admiring a slip of paper between his fingers.

A second backside joined Sparrow's on the bonnet...the little car's nose dipped an inch or so in the process. "Got it, huh?"

Jack beamed. "Indeed." After flashing it at her briefly, he stuffed it in his pocket then turned to face her, still parked on the bonnet. "Now then...I have to thank you for helping me learn the ropes, lass. You've been remarkable, especially regarding my little technological handicap..."

She grinned back at him. "You learn faster than most of the kids I teach that I'd expect to pick it up faster, considering they've all wanted to drive for years."

He shrugged, but the pride was evident on his face. "I suppose your work here is done, then?"

"Not quite." A little hint of mischief spread across her features. "Come with me..."

Motioning for him to follow, she led him a few car spaces down. "Just so you don't fall into the same trap as everyone else on the road, I'm going to show you a _real_ car. Something that makes mere transport become a passion, an addiction..."

Such choice of words...she'd better tread easy with those...

She paused in front of a car that looked remarkably similar to the training car, only it was a deep grey with a good amount of blue shining through in the midday sunlight. Though...something about it told Jack that it was just a little meaner, a little scarier...

"This, Jack, is something that you will quickly grow to love."

Perhaps he would. It was just so shiny...and on second thought, quite a bit lower to the ground than the training car. The front end was sculpted in a far more aggressive, curvaceous manner and there was a massive structure to the rear in place of the training car's flat bootlid. Huge gold wheels adorned the vehicle, and on a quick Sparrow-style three-sixty degree inspection, it had an exhaust large enough to stuff your arm up too, along with some seriously sculpted seats inside.

The car blip-blipped as the indicators flashed twice. Naturally, it startled the living daylights out of the pirate, who was poking at the honeycomb-patterned grille.

"Well...jump into the passenger's seat, au!" She smirked devillishly as she slipped into the driver's seat herself.

After climbing _down_ into the car and half-squishing stuff that didn't need to be squished getting into the seat - the sidewalls on these seats are renowned for eating privates if sat on wrong - he pulled the door shut and groaned. "Gawh..."

With the key in the ignition and ready to go, she paused to glance over at him. "This thing is noisy...just so you know. Also..." A finger darted in front of Jack. "Here's your 'Oh-Shit-Grips' here and here." She motioned at the hand-hold on the door and sitting above the window.

Jack was suddenly feeling a mild attack of nerves. "Should I be worried?"

"Neh. Just hold on tight."

He had no chance to respond as the key was finally turned in the ignition barrel and the far lower, far more aggressive Subaru spluttered to life. Compared to the C'Z model Impreza he'd been trained in, Jack found the deep and rather deafening cough of life to be rather startling; the pitch was deep and husky like no car he'd ever heard before, though the casual_ 'wob-wob-wob-wob-wob' _it purred as it settled into an idle was remarkably...satisfying.

"Just don't do anything too insane at first or your seats will never be the same. Savvy?" Jack's voice seemed rather quiet over the droning burble of the exhaust.

"No problem..." There's that cheeky grin again. _Are all driving instructors akin to madmen?_

The little Subaru purred into action in the most casual manner, reversing out of the parking space then gliding forward to exit the quayside parking lot. Something about it seemed so calm and in control compared to the training car, though some beast lurked beneath the calm demeanour like the Kraken beneath a glassy ocean.

It didn't take long until the supposed Kraken revealed its tentacles. After a street or two of warming up, the happy burbling purr became a howling roar, and Jack found himself being forcibly sucked into his seat with free-fall force. The noise was incredible, deafening and utterly thrilling, as was everything rushing past him at a mind-boggling pace.

The Subaru howled right up to around nine thousand revs before it was clicked into second gear...and it all happened again. That immense suction, that ethereal noise...it was unlike anything else on this Earth.

And ironically enough, the only thing that came close was the plane. That dratted plane. Yet...oddly enough...this wasn't terrifying, this was thrilling. Thrilling beyond all compare.

"Let's take a run through your favourite place, eh?"

He blinked a couple of times, then arched a brow. "The Domain?"

She simply nodded and smirked with intent.

The demonic Subaru purred contentedly around a few corners then headed towards the motorway onramp, but instead of howling up it like Jack was expecting, it turned off and glided up a smaller, narrower street that quickly became shrouded by tree canopy above. Wait...where was this again?

No time to think. Into second gear it went, and if he hadn't have been alert, he would have missed his instructor's hand flicking to a little scrollwheel beside the car's handbrake. _Wonder what that little gadget is...the other car doesn't have one of 'em..._

The noise was phenomenal, the otherworldly howl of the engine rattling his eardrums as the monster surged forward so hard he couldn't lift his head from the back of the blue suede-clad bucket seat. The first of the corners came, and Jack panicked...isn't she going to slow down for those?

Nope.

The little Subaru dove straight at the inside of the corners, exiting wide and with such force the pirate discovered why the seats had such absurd sidewalls; they stopped one from smacking their head against the car's windows from excessive g-forces...

It seemed that the little demon was getting faster and faster. Up ahead though...the right-hander seemed to have no exit at all...it curved around on itself in a full turn...great, she wasn't going to dive into that one at this speed was she?

She was.

Jack found himself bracing for an impact that never came...instead there was an immense racket of squealing, screeching tyres, and the car took the corner seemingly sideways. Jack simply had no explanation for it...the front of the car was facing the grassy inside wall of the corner, but the back was facing directly away from it. Wheels don't bend like that...the only reasonable explanation was that the tyres were simply sliding across the road instead of gripping it.

The Impreza exploded out of the corner with great furore and flew onward to devour those that followed; the howling of the engine and the mad scrabbling of tyres as they were heated up and pushed to their limits was unlike anything he had ever imagined. There were two more corners where things started screeching tremendously, but the other corners saw the pirate clinging to the 'Oh-Shit-Grips' for dear life and trying not to fall out of the seat. Not that it would let him - the blue suede strip down the centre of the seat and the bear-hug shape of it simply welded him to the spot he'd originally sat in with no argument.

It seemed to be over all too soon despite each of those obscenely narrow uphill corners lasting what felt like hours. The car came to a stop so suddenly yet so smoothly Jack's hair flew forward over his shoulders and managed to half-smother him.

Directly ahead of them was the War Memorial Museum, atop the highest hill in The Domain.

"Well I'll be...this was my favourite spot after all." Jack grinned. "And I don't believe I could muster the words to describe that little tour."

She smirked mischievously as she kept her eyes on the road, turning left to head back to the carpark down by the Quay. "That, my friend, is what we call Touge."

"Why didn't you teach me how to do that?" There was almost a hint of a reprimand in his voice.

"Simple, really. Unless you know what you're doing it's exceedingly dangerous...when you do know what you're doing, that drops back to very dangerous. That, and it's also highly illegal." She winked at him.

"Ah." Since when was he afraid of illegal activities? Probably not a good look to ask that though.

"Anyway. Let's get you back to Quay St so you can head off home."

"Hang on a minute." Jack's grin grew malicious all of a sudden. "I want a short joust in the captain's seat!"

Her face dropped. "Uh...this isn't anything like the training car, you know."

"Indeed. The training car is for little scallywags without the head for such things." He smirked at her. "Go on...my turn."

After parking up briefly, they had exchanged seats and Jack had just been given a lecture about how different the vehicle was to the one he'd grown to know and to be careful as it was the instructor's personal car...not a training vehicle.

Unable to wipe the grin off his face, Jack stabbed a couple of times at the clutch. Actually...it appears that was enough to wipe the grin off his face after all! "Blimey! This thing is as stiff as a...hm." He thought better of announcing such thoughts in the presence of a lady. "Is it meant to be like that, or is something broken as usual?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, it's different. Steering is heavier, gearshift is far shorter and has an extra gear, clutch is stiff, and for God's sake don't floor it!" It was almost as if she wasn't happy about a newbie thrashing her beloved car.

"Ah. Righty-ho then. Perhaps those 'Oh-Shit-Grips' you so kindly mentioned before will prove useful..."

With that, Jack blipped the gas up, pulled the clutch out...and bunny-hopped the living daylights out of the poor car before stalling.

This time, his instructor burst out laughing.

"What!" The expression on Jack's face could be nothing other than bewilderment, his hands sitting a few inches from the steering wheel in shock.

"You know the drill...you have to hunt for the engage point!"

Grumbling, Jack turned the car back on and actually got it rolling with the next attempt. It bounced forward...just like his first few attempts with the training car. _Oh, bloody brilliant, _he thought to himself in dismay.

Though it soon became evident why he was making such a botched job of driving this particular vehicle; everything was far stiffer and more responsive than the other car, which was, in the scheme of things, essentially 'soft and squishy'. It didn't take much to get used to though, and when Jack gently tapped the gas, the little car surged forward with more energy than he'd ever been able to wring from the other Impreza.

"Now I know you're quite the aggressive driver Jack, and I know you'll do well with this...but just take it easy, alright?"

"Relax, lass. It's all under control." _When will she stop the blasted nagging? _

Sure enough, the intrepid pirate seemed to have everything under control after all. _Gawh, that wretched gearshift IS absurdly short..._

After a quick few corners to loop back around to the route of madness they'd just roared up, Jack felt far more familiar with this very, very different beastie; without warning he planted hoof as soon as he got to the beginning of the run, the almost maniacal grin he'd grown welded firmly to his features. It seemed only to grow as they both felt the immense pressure of the sudden accelaration, and following by example, he simply added more throttle as he hit the first series of corners. To his delight the car didn't slide, it simply stuck like tar to a freshly-cleaned coat and roared around the corner with no sympathy for its passengers.

Though his cornering was more unbalanced than his instructor's, Jack seemed to have taken note of the 'lines' he'd been taught to follow on the road. And now he saw exactly why – do it properly, and the car would stick.

The short, swift journey down through The Domain was more awkward and far slower than the previous, but still impressive. Swift and sweet, the joust down the hill was over and done with in no time and Jack found himself heading back towards the city the long way.

As they reached a intersection blazing a red light at them, he yanked up the handbrake as he came to a stop and grinned at his passenger.

"Well, lass. I'm certainly sold on one of these beasties." As he gazed back out at the surrounding traffic, he gave the gearstick the customary I'm-in-neutral wobble. "Perhaps there is something quite pleasing about this century after all."

She simply smiled back at him. "Wait a while until you buy an STi, alright? We don't need you sledging into a pole."

"Sledging?" He wrinkled his nose in thought.

"Going straight when you have your wheels turned...usually ends with a cliff or a pole."

Jack winced. "Might avoid that then."

Though cautious enough, the journey back to 'Point A' was a swift one. Heck, it's not every day one is gifted with the opportunity to drive a monster like this. Even if the opportunity was...pilfered, in a way.

---

This particular Saturday had proven far more interesting than those preceding it. It had been an opportunity to not only hone his newfound skills, but it had proven to be the perfect opportunity to explore the wider area of the place he lived at his leisure, and without having to worry about getting too lost.

It had been a week since Jack got his license, and as a reward for the ambitious step, G-Corp had shown a rare moment of extended generosity to the pirate and had gifted him with a car.

Not a particularly nice one, mind you. It was a tiny little Toyota, a 'Corolla Windy'...absurdly small, absolutely gutless and despite being a manual, it was thoroughly boring. Somehow, Jack missed the training car. He knew he especially missed his instructor's personal car...then again, after driving it, who wouldn't?

Still, he had taken the opportunity to explore his new world graciously. The little Windy had taken him over to his new office on the North Shore, back towards South Auckland, and as the afternoon passed by, towards the central city beaches.

With the sun hanging lazily just above the horizon, Jack finally pulled up at Kohimarama Bay and hopped out to admire the view. A boardwalk followed the dusty white sand of the sleepy, calm little beach behind a smooth rock wall barely reaching the height of his knees. Locking his car and stepping over the rock wall, Jack dropped himself down on the fluffy sand with a happy sigh, leaned back, and stared out at the great volcano in the middle of the harbour.

It wasn't his beloved Caribbean, but it was still water. Lots of water. Salty waves casually lapped at the shoreline, lovingly scattering little bits and pieces of shell and the occasional shred of seaweed. The beachfront meandered in bits and pieces around to the city mere kilometres away, surrounding the calm, sheltered waters of the Auckland Harbour with the buzz of bustling human activity. So many little island scattered the harbour - he could tell by the shape of them that they were volcanos, but it seemed it had been a long time since any of them had made their presence feared. _I'd suppose they'd last erupted well before even my time...my real time..._

With the sun dipping below the radar, Jack failed to acknowledge any other presence on the beach. He was in his own little world. All he had was his body and his imagination - which was casting a line out into the never-never beyond the horizon, drawing Jack with it aboard a fantasy ship, shrouding the current world in a mist of insignificance. Nothing mattered.

Such was his preoccupation with the world within his mind, Jack hadn't noticed he was being observed. A little distance down the beach, perched casually atop the rock wall to Jack's right, was a figure somewhat larger than Sparrow's own; tendrils of golden-red locks lapped about the man's face in the wind as cold blue eyes watch on casually as the dark-haired pirate reminisced about his past.

A long, somehow elegant finger fiddled aimlessly with the large, mottled slabs of rock he was sitting on. Yes, it had been a while since he'd last seen Jack Sparrow, but by now he was certain that's who it was. This would certainly end in an interesting manner...

Or not, it seemed. The atmosphere had grown increasingly dark and blue, and the typical Auckland nightly bite had arrived in the air, its coldness stinging the extremities. Jack pushed himself to his feet, dusted himself off, and headed across the road with every intention of finding somewhere he could stuff his face with whatever looked good at the time. Blast...

The opposite side of the road from the beach was lined with restaurants and cafes; brilliant. He passed by one after another, but when he came across one that was wafting exceedingly divine smells of dinner at him, he jerked to a stop to read the menu.

It was at that point an explosion went off with a clap back over at the beach, and no sooner had it happened, a bullet whistled past the tip of his nose and embedded itself in the brick wall beside him.

Sparrow jumped to his defense immediately, though being unarmed put him at a significant disadvantage. Across the road a dark green Toyota Soarer roared into life, its V8 engine howling as its rear wheels screamed in protest at the four-litre engine putting full power straight to them from a dead stand-still. As it quickly disappeared, a cop car from the police office mere metres away screeched off after it in hot pursuit, a foray of passers-by took the time to fuss over the pirate and ensure his safety. With this many people around him, he was a hard target to hit. Good.

Still, before any big deal could be made of the event, Jack had slunk away from the crowd and hastily made his way home. At least there he could lock the doors, shut the windows and lay low for a day or two. Heck, someone had just taken a pot-shot at his head! If his stomach hadn't demanded looking at a menu right that VERY SECOND...he'd be a dead man...


	6. Haunted

**A/N: **Been a while since I wrote anything for this, and the other fic I'm on has been COMPLETELY neglected :/ But updates should be more frequent now, considering I've finally gotten this to the point I want it at. You'll see what I mean.

Here we have a whole lot more 21st century crap, coupled with a whole lot more of Jack being Jack...and some unpleasant surprises.

Enjoy.

---

It was quite the day for a spot of shopping, one could say. A blazing hot summer's day, a refreshingly cool breeze and calm, azure waters.

Naturally, Regal & Wright's marina had seen a good solid day's of customers already; another pair had just walked onto the company's wharf. Yet another of the type - a middle-aged gentleman with a creamy-yellow polo shirt, similarly coloured knee-length shorts and brown leather loafers, alongside his wife sporting an obnoxiously bright sundress with an oversized and over-decorated hat.

More of the shore type. Brilliant.

The sales team at Regal & Wright's all seemed to be otherwise preoccupied, strutting about the wharf and hopping on and off the collection of rather expensive-looking yachts and launches, suffering in the sweltering heat under their matching grey business suits.

"Good afternoon, my good fellow, and welcome to Regal & Wright's!"

The man almost leaped out of his own skin when confronted by someone that looked (and frankly was starting to smell) like what he imagined to be a genuine pirate, right hand extended grandly for a hand-shake.

He gingerly took the hand before him and shook it. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow, my friend." He gave a deep bow - charming little critter, this one. "What can I do for you? Have anything specific in mind?"

The name tag on this _Mr Sparrow'_s blue coat read his name...an interesting gimmick, apparently, to have a rough-and-ready salesman with a British accent garbed up like a pirate in a boat sales yard, complete with a torn shirt, dreadlocks, boots, coat and for Pete's sake...a cutlass!

"Well, I, uh..." Nothing was forthcoming...needless to say, yet another customer was surprised into silence.

"A yacht, of course! What else would we be here for?" His wife spat harshly, impatience ringing through the air. "Come on Henry, let's just find one and go!"

"Barb, it's not that simple! You can't just buy a boat off the shelf, it's not a pair of shoes you know!"

She grunted at him and turned her back to the two men. "Hmph! You know I have better things to do with my time! I don't care what it is, what it looks like, just so long as it floats and has room for four people!"

Jack created his own opportunity to jump in before they started fighting and he lost what may be a valuable customer. "Well in that case, you're in luck, my good lady." He flashed a grin - no more gold teeth of course, even if his natural teeth were a touch wonky. "All of our vessels happen to float, and if you cast your attention to this side of the wharf," he directed with an open hand as he pointed to the very left of the marina, "These little fellows are just the right size for a small number of people but big enough for an entire party if need be."

"Well, let's have a look then..." Henry sighed, following Sparrow and his wife towards the row of bobbing, meandering vessels.

Though the couple managed to argue about just about anything that was possible to argue over, Jack kept them distracted long enough to show them at least three of the yachts he had in mind for them. One eventually appealed to both; despite the fast-talking sales-speak, they'd decided it best to come back later, considering they'd need to find themselves a place in the marina on the other side of the harbour, the Viaduct.

Still, as they bickered off into the parking lot, they'd taken a business card each and seemed satisfied with the going price. Potential customer...especially since they too had left Jack with a contact number. _Whatever the heck one does with a string of numbers..._

The afternoon sun was absolutely brutal at this point. Sweltering in his heavy clothing and parched beyond all sense, Jack took a moment to saunter back to the kitchen inside for a glass of water.

As per usual there were people already in the kitchen, gossiping away. It was a little hole of a place...a little wooden table, an old microwave (blast 'em), a tiny beer fridge and a dirty little sink. Possibly the only place on the premises aside from the restroom that wasn't maintained to a ridiculous standard.

"...bloody joke it is. This is the only place in the North Island like it, and we're going so well, so the boss has to go and fricken' hire that clown."

Giggles, hums of agreement.

"Well just look at him, prancing around with that stupid had and those stupid boots...he looks like a fricken' idiot."

Jack fell silent, resting his back against the wall just outside the kitchen. No doubt they were talking about him. Heck, it had only been one single week of him being at this place and they were already backstabbing him! So THIS was why he chose the way of free men, rather than the way of slaves of the state.

"I wonder if he even makes any sales. Bloody circus act seems to entertain more people than sell boats."

"Mad Brits, eh? Next thing you know there'll be Bungas all through the place thievin' property off to their 'Bro's..."

_WHAM._

Next thing anyone knew, a small daggar had been thrust into the table with enough force to knock several plastic cups off the table.

After everyone managed to regain control of their bladders, nothing but silence filled the tiny kitchen. Jack was bent over the table, hand still gripping the handle of the little blade, a murderous look in his dark eyes.

A moment later, he deftly yanked the weapon free of the wood.

"Now that I have your attention, gentlemen..." He stowed it back away in his boot. "For your information, I'm currently the company's pride and joy. My sales are double what the lot of you scurvy mongrels have each made in the last month, and I've barely been here a week!"

"But you just sold the Ti-..." One of the men began defiantly.

Jack cut him off by slamming both hands down on the table, knocking the remaining cups and a plate to the floor. "Listen! I'm not here for anyone's entertainment, especially yours! Laugh all you want, but I'll have you know I'm hardly a clown and hardly a fake as you cretins seem to think."

By now, he had everyone's full attention.

"Your boss happened to hire me because I know the seas better than you landlubbers could ever dream of. I know boats, ancient or modern. I can charm every ounce of gold out of any Scrooge I care to.

"And let me share a little secret..." He leaned in just a little closer, hushing his voice to just above a whisper. "I'm quite the real deal, mateys. I'm only here to keep the peace, but peace isn't my game. I don't play by your rules. The boss pays me handsomely, I take 20 commission, and that does me fine for the time being. But as soon as I am no longer satisfied...I'll be playing my own game."

A smirk crossed his features...perhaps with a hint of malice. "And that game, my friends, involves sharp, pointy things." He motioned with his hand, held like a blade, against his neck.

A gulp or two passed around the room.

"So here's the deal." Jack stood back upright again, hands on hips. "You lot do your thing, I do mine. I continue to obliterate you in all areas with happier customers, more boats out of our marina and more commission in my pocket, because you're all simply too tight and too cocky to do any better. So, henceforth, you essentially leave me alone. No more idiotic conversations behind my back about how ridiculous Jack Sparrow is, how stupid his getup is, how awful his accent is. And Jack Sparrow doesn't see to it that every one of you pathetic, conniving, sniveling landlubbers," he almost spat the latter words out, "Doesn't meet a gruesome end to a so far abysmal career."

A moment's pause, then a smirk. "Do we have an accord?"

---

Four weeks into his new way of life had seen a few minor changes. Before long the staff at Regal & Wright's had grown to show Jack respect, even if they didn't feel it. They knew that, for the sake of their hides, they'd better not get on his bad side. It didn't take much to see that behind that obnoxious yet friendly surface lurked a darker, more dangerous being altogether.

Still, he hadn't needed to show it. People toed the line faster than he could say 'pathetic, conniving, sniveling landlubbers', after all.

Life was starting to become altogether more familiar, though not entirely to Jack's liking. Despite working with salty sea air and a healthy dose of bobbing up and down in the water every day, there wasn't nearly enough sea for Jack, nor was their enough action. He'd had to start waking up early to exercise or he'd get very little time to do it each day at all. And heck knows he didn't want to end up with a pot-belly like good old Mr Gibbs...

Oh, and of course there was this whole subordinate thing that was driving him absolutely loopy. Ever since he'd been woken up at G-Corp, Jack had found himself being pushed around and ordered about by everyone and everything - and of course, now he had a 'boss' to answer to. He knew he had to start formulating some sort of 'out' of this mediochre existence, or he'd end up trying to find a permanent 'out'.

Well, one thing was for sure. He was the best salesman on the marina by far, and his hefty monthly salary and even heftier commission had earned him some big dollars even in his first four weeks of work. Perhaps it was time to treat himself to something special, something enjoyable.

Of all the people around, Jack knew that he needed a few extra zeros on his new bank balance - he'd gone to the bank and asked them to give him an account separate to G-Corp's, which had remained untouched all month - before he could get a boat.

Not that the Windy could tow one anyway. The boat would tow the Windy...back down a hill!

Speaking of the Windy, it had seen some interesting transformations of late. Bored with sheer nothingness day in and day out, Jack had gone off his tree - and up the road to Repco, an automotive store, returning with several pots of paint, brushes and masking gear. The little Corolla had been hastily masked, leaving only the paint open to the elements...and over the next two days, it had been painted, rather sloppily, so that its paint resembled planks of wood with portholes along the doors. Its radio aerial had a little black square of fabric tied to it - nothing resembling _the_ flag on a warring pirate vessel, merely a cheeky little ornament.

Though amateurish, the effect was quite stunning.

Still...it was hardly exciting to drive.

Which brought the pirate to an interesting conclusion...he needed a new car.

---

"Afternoon, sir! What can I do for you?"

Jack resisted the urge to laugh. Oh, how he knew how to play this game. "I don't bloody know, to be honest." He grinned. "Find me something that's just a little wicked."

The Saturday afternoon sunshine was doing wonderful things to the paintwork on many of the cars in the car yard - glittering, sparkling colours twinkled left right and centre, enticing buyers into the premises for a good drool.

Jack's statement had baffled the sharply-dressed sales rep. "Right. So...anything in particular?"

_Oh, stop bloody using my lines... _"I suppose I'm looking for something similar to a little beastie I drove about six weeks ago. Something better than _that,_ anyway." he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the wooden-looking Windy parked across the street. "I can't for the life of me remember what it was precisely, I hardly have the head for this sort of thing. Was fast, I remember that much."

"Two doors or four?" The rep knew how to play _this _particular game.

"Erm...four, I believe." He thought a moment. "Had a bloody great contraption on the back of it too. And a couple of holes on the front of it, right about there." A tanned finger poked at the bonnet of a nearby vehicle.

"Interesting...I think I might know what you're after." The rep scratched his chin, then led Jack across the yard. "Only thing I can think of that's relatively common is a WRX. Here's one here..." He pointed at a bright blue third-generation WRX - a small rear wing, a single bonnet scoop, and foglamps beneath it's rather happy-looking features.

"Nope, that's not it. That thing looks far too happy and far too...round."

The rep glanced about...aw heck, this was going to be difficult.

Jack muttered to himself. "Wonder if there'll be another one with one of those strange little wheel-thingies by the handbrake..."

"Ah-hah! You're after an STi..." The rep grinned.

Jack shrugged. "Sounds familiar...find me one and I'll see."

They ventured across the yard again, stopping at a rather familiar-looking vehicle...only this one was black. "Sorry mate, this has only got two doors. I imagine the one you drove did have four since they're more common. Good news is...this is a fast little monster, being a Type R, and has DCCD - that scrollwheel you mentioned."

_Blimey, this guy is on his game!_

"That certainly looks the part. Tell you what, don't bother with a test run. I'll take it...so long as you take that blasted Windy off my hands!"

The rep was almost beside himself. Easiest sale ever! "You've got yourself a deal..."

---

Driving to work was now certainly less than mundane - in fact, it was almost too much fun. Though the Type R drove rather differently from the STi he'd driven nearly two months ago, it somehow felt even better; his technological background, though still full of incredible gaps that left him wondering how he knew how to use any of it, was enough to tell him that the power came on much harder in this little black beastie and pulled him back into the seat just that little bit more firmly. He hadn't a clue what the significant difference between the two cars was...but he knew he was quite attached to his own.

But this weekend, it wasn't the car Jack was enjoying. It was something far more satisfying for him...something far closer to home.

The bare-chested pirate was completely out of view of anyone else nearby, lying happily on his back and staring at the clouds and gulls above. Gentle nudges from the waves lapping the side of his little yacht were almost lulling him to sleep as his belly full of beer cocooned him in a warm, fuzzy feeling of complete contentment.

Jack had just hit a mini-jackpot. Two days earlier, he'd sold the biggest, most expensive, most luxurious yacht in the yard. Sure, there was no commission to be won over this one, considering that would award him over a hundred thousand dollars, but his boss was so overjoyed with the swift sale that he'd rewarded Jack with something he knew meant more to the pirate.

The Captaincy of a ship.

Well...command of a little yacht. And just for the day.

...it was better than nothing.

Jack jumped at the opportunity...a day alone with the sea and a hefty supply of booze. All he really wanted for the time being. He'd jumped aboard the moment he could with the two boxes of beer and bottle of Coruba the company had gifted him and set sail for a nice open patch of sea just past the harbour – the little yacht wasn't exactly a vessel to be taken into open waters, but a little way out was good enough in his opinion.

It wasn't exactly like he was inexperienced, after all.

Sail down, one twelve-pack of Heinekin gone, and bobbing up and down in the calm waters, Jack could almost be fooled into thinking he was in his own time again. Ideas of hunting for treasure flashed through his somewhat inebriated thoughts – just what, was the question, and the idea was eventually disregarded. He was well on his way to being filthy rich at something else he was apparently brilliant at anyway...it's far more dangerous to pilfer and plunder than it was to wile and charm.

Then again...

Danger was part of the game he enjoyed the most. Sure, he'd try and avoid getting caught red-handed and try to avoid getting himself shot, but causing trouble was most likely a huge factor in what he was longing for.

Perhaps he'd better cause some trouble.

Jack sat up with a start, and grinned maliciously. _Sneaky plan time..._

Without a second thought he stumbled about the deck, hoisting the little yacht's sail and heading into deeper waters. Why the heck not take advantage of the situation and enjoy himself? He wouldn't leave as he would have done several centuries earlier – after all there was nowhere to go, his vessel was sadly short of capable of going much further without running into trouble, and he had his beautiful car parked up on land, loyally awaiting his return.

As the tiny vessel lazily pulled itself into bumpier waters, Jack quickly rifled through the chilly-bin on deck. Food supplies – a few little cakes, sausages, a loaf of bread, a few vegetables, hamburger buns, a steak or two – already cooked and kept warm inside tinfoil like the sausages – with a bottle of tomato sauce, and a hot chicken. Enough food for a day, but no longer.

Once he was a good way out from everything he dropped the sail again and prepared to simply float aimlessly for a while. Making a note to watch the shoreline – now a good distance away – and the horizon for clouds building up, he was set for a good weekend doing what he loved most. Aside from pillaging and plundering whatever he cared to, that is.

The afternoon dragged on and the chilly-bin was soon drained of half its supplies. Steak sandwiches with ample tomato sauce, he had discovered, was a brilliant and simple snack. The paper-thin metal covering food to keep it fresh and warm was to him a brilliant idea...one of the few things he appreciated about this time. After all...his sausages were still warm, as were his steaks!

As night began to engulf the country, the intrepid pirate weighed anchor and sat back with a well-earned bottle of the Jamaican rum he'd nabbed before setting out onto water. Yeah, it tasted like candy-water to him...but yeah, it was still booze. Relaxing back in the reclining chair the yacht had come with, he could watch the sun set and the entire shoreline simply ignite as electric lights came on from one end of the land to the other. He certainly wouldn't lose sight of land, that was for sure.

Belly full of rum and stars twinkling above, Jack was completely content with the quiet, entirely peaceful world around him. He knew he'd be safe passing out for the evening out here. He'd done it in worse conditions, after all.

Night drew on, and eventually the sated pirate drifted into a peaceful, albeit somewhat drunken, slumber.

---

_SQUARK!_

Jack shot up with a start, somewhat panicked by the rude awakening – as he did he was deafened by a seagull taking offense and leaping from his chest in a blaze of feathery fury.

"Rude little bugger, I'm not a nest!" Unimpressed, he threw one of his empty beer bottles at the creature as it left.

Morning...early morning. And right where he left off too, as an added bonus. Jack's little boat had stayed put all night, peacefully bobbing up and down in the calm waters. Despite the cheap little recliner not being the most comfortable in the world, Jack conceded this was one of the best sleeps he'd had in this godforsaken century – almost a year he'd spent in it, too.

"Damn beer..." Jack muttered as he got to his feet. After checking his surroundings briefly, he positioned himself close enough to the side of the yacht that it wouldn't roll, then unzipped his trousers. Too much beer, indeed.

An unholy volume of unwanted liquid later, rather relieved, Jack parked himself in front of his chilly-bin and proceeded to devour everything that was left – including two more Heinekins. Sucker for punishment, maybe. Sucker for alcohol, definitely.

The sun crept higher in the sky, and the hands of his watch closer to midday. Right...nothing but alcohol and minor sunburn left at this point...time to head to port.

A gentle, cool breeze was enough to fill the humble little sail and pull it back towards land. Jack set sail without a thought – it was second nature, after all. The waters grew busier as land grew closer, and though navigation became a necessity, so did responding to the friendly waves of fellow sailors as they passed by in the opposite direction.

Friendly smiles continued until he was moored up at the company's quay, unloaded onto dry land and ready to head home for a much-needed shower. As he turned to head for his car, he found himself almost walking face-first into the boss. The...erm...rather unimpressed-looking boss.

"Oh...er...good morning, sir!" Jack flashed his most charming grin.

"Sparrow! I don't know how you deal with deadlines in the 18th century, but five o'clock Saturday means five o'clock SATURDAY! Not midday Sunday!" Arms crossed over his chest, the round little man actually looked somewhat intimidating.

To everyone but Jack, that is.

He cleared his throat. "Well, sir...I, uh...thought I might take the opportunity to admire this wonderful city from afar. It's not so easy to fully appreciate the...constructional and technomological prowess of 21st century designers, builders and people in general when everything is two inches from your nose, so I thought I might drop anchor from a little way out last night and properly appreciate the sights to be beheld...heh..." He smiled awkwardly. That little speech was hard work on vocabulary alone. "Hope I didn't cause you any...inconvenience, or the like."

The boss sighed, rolled his eyes and smiled. "I suppose this is why I hired you. No respect for the rules, but you could sell manure to a celebrity if you wanted to." He migrated his hands from his chest to his hips. "Look...just keep an eye on the time next time, alright?"

---

Interesting day, this had been. Once sobered up somewhat he'd headed home, thankfully without too much of a 'tune-up' from his boss, had a shower and spent the rest of the day lazing around. He'd given the car a wash as the sun went down too...so black and shiny!

Mmm, black and shiny. Black...oh, the significance of that colour. Perhaps he ought to call this car Pearl...for old time's sake.

One thing was for sure. The beast needed to go for a drive!

As twilight crept across the sky in lush shades of pink and purple, Jack and his trusty Subaru set forth toward the central city bays for a little cruise. He was particularly fond of the bays between St Heliers and Mechanics Bay – the long, twisted road following the coast had a seaside view the whole way along. And no one could deny it – Jack was in love with the sea.

The contended, confident thrum of the STi's burbling exhaust was oddly relaxing, despite the massive power lurking just a few millimeters further down the throttle. It was a difficult beast to learn to drive; Sparrow had discovered that however solidly one pressed on the throttle bore NO meaning on how hard the car would accelerate. Some enthusiast had thrown the terms 'exponential', 'throttle response' and 'turbo' at him, but he found no interest whatsoever in finding out what they meant. 'Fast' and 'fun' worked far more accurately in his opinion.

Nightfall brought out the usual 'boyracers', tearing up and down the street like maniacs. Far too undignified for his liking...those _clatterbang rustbuckets_ would be no challenge to his little beastie!

As he pulled up at a red light heading back towards the bays from the city, something equally as black and burbling in exactly the same fashion as his own STi parked itself beside Jack and his Type R. Another Subaru, it seemed. The windows along the side appeared to be tinted – he couldn't see who was driving it.

Out of the blue, the car to his right revved right up with a distinctly aggressive _'brooooar, brooooooar!'_ – it seemed far louder than Sparrow's car. Especially considering it spluttered a loud backfire through the exhaust as the revs returned to idle.

It was a blatant challenge...and what better opportunity to give this puppy a test drive!

Jack smirked and returned fire by blipping the STi's throttle solidly. No holds barred...battle time.

Both Subarus raised the revs to around 3000rpm as the lights for the other side of the intersection glowed orange against the black cylindrical deflectors surrounding the amber light...

...and as their light finally went green, the two black monsters screamed to life with howling exhaust and screeching tyres. Amongst a cloud of exhaust and tyre smoke, the two vehicles exploded from the lights, flexing their 200kW muscles to the greatest extent their drivers could muster.

First gear. The larger, tinted Subaru to the right fell back at first, but as the revs and speed climbed, it quickly caught up to the Impreza with a burst of enthusiastic speed. As the clutch pedals of both cars went down, Jack's opponent's car let out a loud fluttering whoosh. Odd...

Second gear. Jack held his foot firmly to the ground – a smug smile gripped his features as the other car fell back again, its nose pulling back to the STi's rear wheels. The smile snapped to a look of horror as the other vehicle began to make a whole lot more noise – sort of a whistling, whooshing howl – and quickly caught up despite Jack's foot touching the carpet. Clutch pedals hit the floor again, and the tinted monster let out that fluttering snort.

Third gear. Once again the Impreza surged forward, leaving the other behind. By now, they were reaching speeds in the region of 130km/h...in a 50km/h zone! Egad.

And now there were cars appearing parked along the side of the road_. Oh, bugger!_ Time to test the STi's brakes. In a heartbeat Jack had hit the anchors so hard he almost went through the windscreen, before swerving into the lane behind his opponent – who had also hit the stop pedal to brush off as much illegal speed as possible. Still, as Jack pulled himself back down to a legal speed, the other was determined to head off, maintaining a good 20km/h speed difference.

But what was that strange beast? Blatantly Subaru...but oddly faster as the revs climbed. He squinted, drinking in what he could from the badging on the back of his opponent's bootlid.

The word 'Legacy' was emblazoned across the boot plinth, between the brake lights and in the same material as them. To the left read 'B4', matched by a 'Subaru' badge on the other side. Interesting.

He also simply had to notice the enormous, shiny, barrel-like exhaust hanging from beneath the left side of the rear bumper. Hey, his didn't have one of those...

As a final observation, Jack couldn't help but notice...the registration plate on the boot simply read 'DTCHMN'. While at first it seemed a random jumble, Sparrow had noticed some people seemed to enjoy customising their plates. Sometimes vowels would be omitted to allow a whole word to be made from a mere six characters.

Perhaps he was just reading that one wrong.

_Shudder..._

---

One thing Jack Sparrow had learned to do is ignore coincidences. They were mere...coincidences. Nothing more.

Hence, he was once again out looking for trouble after a particularly hectic Monday at work. Last night's race had been too much fun, and though Jack wanted more, it seemed no one was out to challenge him.

An hour of wasting high-octane petrol ensued before Jack finally decided to answer the calls of his agitated stomach. There was little open at night within the city, but a quick bite to eat at a bar or pub should set him right. There was a nice bottle of rum sitting on the shelf at home that needed nursing...just a nibble and he'd set off home.

As he strolled through the near-deserted city streets, he could swear someone was following him.

_Better watch it, mate. Jack Sparrow no longer goes unarmed...particularly after that last debacle..._

Perhaps armament wasn't quite enough though. By this point, he realised that perhaps a little caution was necessary as well...he was alone in a dark, secluded area of the city...he could so easily be ambushed around here...

_Snap._

The sound of a twig breaking underfoot behind him was enough to have Jack snatch his concealed pistol and whip around, aiming it at the figure as soon as he laid eyes upon it. The move was quickly matched; he found himself staring down the barrel of a Desert Eagle, a mere foot away from his own weapon.

Icy blue eyes bore holes in his own...they belonged to a face that still haunted Jack in his nightmares, and hoped, _prayed_ he would never see again. Not that there was much to see – the distinct lack of a nose, replaced by a siphon on each side of his face (_hang on...wasn't there only one of those ugly things originally?_) and the distinct moustache-like tentacles pulled down at the corners of the mouth into an angry sneer. A beanie covered his head along with the hood of a black coat, tentacle beard kept hidden beneath the dark article.

"So...it WAS you trying to take me out all this time, Jack Sparrow."


	7. Drift

"So...it WAS you trying to take me out all this time, Jack Sparrow."

That voice was enough to make Jack's stomach churn with nausea. A thick Scottish accent matched by a deep, resounding voice. There was absolutely no mistaking who that could possibly be.

The smaller man's jaw flapped uselessly for a moment before he finally found his voice. "No...no, not me...I've done nothing of the sort." He glanced down his arm at the gun he was currently aiming between the larger man's eyes. "This...this is merely self-protection." His expression darkened. "I imagine it was YOU that's been trying to take ME out. But isn't that just like you, Davy Jones."

Jones lowered his weapon in disgust. "Pfft. Why would I waste my time with that? You seem to be adept at taking care of that yourself!"

Jack lowered the pistol from Jones' visage as well, considering it was no longer being matched by a far more modern and absurdly powerful weapon. "Don't make me laugh. You've had it in for me since you first laid eyes on me...you've spent years trying to kill me. Why change now?" He scowled. "And what the hell are you doing in 2008, on dry land?"

Jones smirked, placing his hands on his hips. Noteworthy was the fact that they were both human hands, albeit large and a distinct murky green colour...no crab-hand, no tentacles. "Curses take on different forms with time, lad. You should know that. Alas, you're stuck with the knowledge that I'm on land as long as I please."

Shuddering at the mere thought, Jack holstered his pistol. "Brilliant, bloody brilliant." A deep sigh escaped his lips as he folded his arms over his chest.

Jones tucked the gun away safely, continuing to glare at the pirate before him. How typical - he'd barely modernised his attire at all, and stuck out like a sore thumb. Jack wouldn't even realise, Jones mused. "So..." He stated thoughtfully. "If it wasn't you constantly trying to riddle me with bullets...then who?"

Jack perked a brow. "Good question. What's to bet it's the same mongrel that took a pot-shot at me down in Mission Bay..."

"High chance of that, considering pistols are hard to get hold of in this godforsaken country."

"Can you think of anyone that would want to take us _both_ out, though?" Jack's brow knitted in thought. It wasn't like they had any obvious mutual enemies any longer. Or so he thought.

Jones sighed softly, following Jack's train of thought. The train, it seemed, was going fairly much nowhere. "Nope. We both have people that want us dead, but to my knowledge no mutual enemies. Not any more..."

A feeling of distrust washed over the smaller man...he couldn't be sure what games Davy Jones was playing with him, but he _could_ be sure that the man was still dangerous. "Well...dash it all. All I know is I don't want any more shots fired at me...and I don't want to see the likes of you any more. No offense, but you...give me the creeps." He shuddered, pushing past the Scot. "Let's pretend this never happened, shall we?"

Jones frowned, but relented. "Sounds like a wise idea."

---

What a horrible start to the week...and an equally horrible week to follow. Sleepless and exhausted, Jack had gone about his job in an entirely lacklustre manner. His nights were haunted by terrible memories of events of the past, every one shadowed by a tentacle-endowed visage. His days saw nothing but difficult customers coming and going, a perpetual nightmare forming as the days went by with next to no sales.

He knew he'd been drained of the life and zest he'd exude with far more passion than anyone else. Instead, he'd worry...more than anything, he did not want anything to do with Davy Jones. His debt, the Locker, their less-than-friendly past...he wanted none of it. By the time Friday had come and gone, he'd managed to work himself into a near-frenzy, the sheer worry that he would have to come to terms with Jones at some point or another panicking and torturing him more and more as the days went by.

Why he was so terrified he did not entirely understand - Jones had no crew as far as Jack could see, and hadn't attempted any more than pointing a gun at him. But that feeling he owed him something, and that he would come and get it, haunted him relentlessly. If anything, he felt almost...guilty. Terribly so, whatever that feeling was.

To ensure he actually got sleep at all, he spent Friday night drinking as much alcohol as he could possibly consume in one night without killing himself, and once done, passed out on the couch in an undignified mess of limbs.

The former half of Saturday was lost to drunken sleep. So inebriated he was, that for once there were no nightmares...

...until the nightmare of the morning's hangover became a reality as the shattered pirate's eyes met sunlight.

"Gawh..." He winced as the sound of his own voice proved to be too loud. Great...one of the most spectacular hangovers he'd had in years...considering he normally never managed to drink enough to get the better of his unthinkably high tolerance.

Still, he knew what would cure it. Stumbling awkwardly into the kitchen, he snatched a glass and filled it with cold water, guzzling the lot in one go and refilling the cup for a second round. Water...lots of water.

Followed by a cold shower...more water...and a ridiculously long piss straight after. After downing a coffee as well, the hammered pirate was starting to feel...well, blatantly less hammered. Time was often just the healer the doctor ordered, in this case with a generous helping or three of strong liquor; he'd almost forgotten what he'd been so haunted by as the sun hung low in the sky.

"Blimey, I've wasted most of my day!" The realisation hit with enough force to knock him clean off his recliner outside, landing him arse-first and backwards on the wooden deck. It was true...he'd woken up in the early afternoon and had spent a good few hours simply relaxing and willing away the remnants of a rather rotten, yet not unexpected hangover.

He scrambled to his feet, determined to achieve something other than sit and do nothing. Maybe a joust in the Pearl...

The nickname brought a smile to his face. Well, if he was going to be haunted by unpleasant memories of the past, he might as well bring with them far more enjoyable memories...and the name he'd chosen for his obsidian-coloured car seemed apt at the time.

Dipping below the horizon and leaving smatterings of pink and purple, the sun marked the end of another day...and the beginning of another weekend's nightlife. Dressed warmly for the cool night air, Jack parked his backside in the STi's stiff, bearhug-like Recaro seat and proceeded to fiddle with the sound system. He'd recently deciphered the damn thing and had managed to fiddle some modern music he didn't mind too much out of it. Music finally playing away in the background, heater on, windows wound right down, he hit the street in search of trouble.

Enthusiastic burbles from the black Impreza echoed about the city buildings as the vehicle slicked about the streets. Jack still wasn't sure what the allure of the beast was, considering it was a whole lot smaller and faster than the ships he'd prefer to be sailing (more of a dinghy in the scheme of things...a hellishly fast dinghy)...all he knew is he loved the sensations to the point it was about as much fun as a man could have with his pants still on.

That view had really only come into light in the last fortnight or so – ever since he'd raced that 'Legacy'. Silently, he hoped it would reappear...either that or something similar. It was about damn time he was able to break the law and enjoy it!

Up and down the coastal road he cruised, up and down the main road through the city...nothing but the usual 'boyracer' types in their rustbuckets. Nothing. How dull.

On a final pass down Quay St before resigning to a night at home in front of a bottle of wine, something caught Jack's eye. A familiar tail-light pattern from several cars up. Interesting...

It took not an ounce of effort for the STi to roar up the road behind the vehicle in question...and what do you know. Black Legacy with a sizable wing and even more sizable exhaust - no mistaking it.

The Impreza's enthusiastic spurt of speed was enough to send the Legacy flying; upon seeing the smaller Subaru blat up behind it, the Legacy's turbo spooled up and it took off fast enough to nearly leave skidmarks on the road.

Jack was in hot pursuit within no time - this was what he'd been waiting for all day!

The pair darted amongst traffic, screaming turbos and roaring exhausts polluting the night air with sheer noise. Slick and powerful, the STi stayed hot on the heels of the Legacy until they reached the top of their rev ranges - at that point, it would suddenly pull away sharply.

Before long the Legacy lurched across the empty street and darted up a steep, winding road leading away from the shore. Subaru home territory...both vehicle stuck like glue as they pushed absurd g-forces through corner after corner.

It was something Jack had not done since he'd driven the grey Impreza months ago; like battling high seas, there was something exhilarating about the danger of more violent territory.

The Legacy pulled away substantially from Jack's Type R as a roundabout finally caught up with them. Without warning, a deafening screech of tyres - the rear end of the Legacy swung around the front, encircling the roundabout loudly and pointing in directly towards the little concrete ring.

"...bastard!" Jack mumbled in surprise...how the heck did that thing manage that? Oh well...only one thing for it. Do it the only way he knew how.

After weighing anchor hard enough to be just above setting off the ABS, Jack yanked the wheel around as hard as was safe. Before he had his foot back on the throttle...in a split second...something overcame him. Without a second thought he gave in to the urge to fiddle with the scrollwheel by the handbrake, rolling it all the way back.

As his right foot hit the gas again...something different to the norm happened. Plenty of noise, for one. The tyres screamed as the STi lurched around the roundabout fully sideways, its driver not entirely sure how to control it without traction.

"Whoa! Hang on!" Jack's hands fought with the wheel as the car continued to howl around the roundabout. Before the machine finally manage to snap straight to chase the Legacy once more, the panicked pirate managed to sledge toward the kerb, snap-oversteer the arse of the car wide around the roundabout, and nearly end up on the wrong side of the road.

"Great fucking scott..." he hissed through clenched teeth as he roared off after the Legacy. "What the hell is that thing..."

Nevertheless, the chase continued back toward the waterfront. As much as Jack tried, he could only just keep up with the larger Subaru...yep, he was certainly more at home on the water. This 'Pearl' may be fast, but the Black Pearl was the fastest ship of her time!

It wasn't long before the leading Subaru finally pulled over into a beachside car park. Curiosity eating him alive - and considering the near-empty lot - Jack followed, parking up with a couple of spaces between him and the Legacy. As the car cooled down in idle he climbed out to meet the driver of this absurdly fast car...

"I thought'ye didn't want to see any more of me, Sparrow." Leaning against the open driver's door of the Legacy was a rather smug-looking redhead - but the eyes were unmistakable. What was going on?

"What in blue blazes..." Jack struggled to find his voice. "...Jones?"

"Aye." He smirked, slamming the door behind him before strutting towards the smaller man, confidence oozing out his pores. "Not exactly how you expected, am I?"

Indeed - instead of the writhing tentacles and green-hued flesh, this 'Jones' had the visage of a man perhaps in his early twenties. Barely olive skin and jaw-length ginger-coloured hair, he was nothing akin to the Davy Jones that haunted the seas centuries ago. He was however unmistakable; added to the hauntingly familiar voice were those piercing blue eyes, distinctive high cheekbones and trademark smirk. The eyes, in particular, showed a wisdom and harshness well beyond their owner's apparent physical age.

"Well, not a bloody thing like I'd expected, to be honest." Jack stammered as he backed away from the taller man. He was cornered within seconds and found himself pressed up against the passengers' side of his car. "So what do you want?"

Jones stopped a mere foot or so from the other. "Isn't it obvious?" He grinned, leaning in uncomfortably closely. Voice barely above a whisper, he continued, grin plastered firmly to his features. "Just wanted a race."

A jump of surprise later, Jack scowled. "What? So you're not here to take my soul, turn me into a fish-monster or otherwise make me pay dearly for anything in particular?"

"Hah!" Jones stepped away, unable to hold back an amused cackle. "Jack, you owe me nothing. Think about it!"

Of course, Sparrow couldn't help but sigh with relief.

"Honestly, Sparrow. We're stuck two hundred-odd years in the future. Neither of us has a ship, let alone a crew. You've been dead, rotting in the abyss, for more than two centuries, as have I." He grinned. "But seriously, lad, if I wanted something from you I'd have taken it long ago."

If he could have retracted his sigh of relief at that point, Jack would have. Smarmy bastard. "So the full truth of the matter is that you merely wanted a race?" Somehow, that was almost insulting.

Jones smirked as he turned back towards his own car. "Why not. You seem to have some idea of how to drive."

Trying to wash down the powerful cocktail of emotions he was experiencing with the usual bout of curiosity and potential kleptomania, Jack casually encircled the black Legacy, eyeing up every detail. "I see you've given this thing a name." He nodded down at the personalised number plate reading 'DTCHMN'.

"Aye." Perhaps it was a little pain, a little pride...the expression on Jones' face was difficult to read.

"Little bit of the past, eh?"

"The only pleasant memory of the past, you mean." Jones scowled down at the Legacy's rear before heading toward the front end.

"Interesting." Jack followed in his signature style, arms raised as per usual. "So...now that I'm sure you're not going to...eat me, or something equally as horrible...may I enquire as to why you appear to be...um..."

Jones stopped and whipped around to face Jack, which nearly resulted in the shorter of the pair wholloping face-first into him. "Lacking a few tentacles?"

Quick evasive action had Sparrow standing upright within a heartbeat, rather than flat on his back after walking into someone a few inches taller and wider. "Yes, that."

"Long story."

_Why not hear it, then_, Jack thought. _I have all night..._

Both men sat themselves a little way from their cars, perched atop the beachside rocky wall.

"You're well aware of what 'G-Corporation' is, aren't'ye?"

Jack nodded. "Yep. Had my fair share of their meddlings."

Jones chuckled softly. "Meddlings. Good way of describing it I suppose. Then you'd understand the nature of how we both came to be in this century I'd imagine."

It wasn't hard for Jack to quickly cover his experiences with G-Corp - his first confusing, near-terrifying month in the 21st Century. As Jones shared, it was evident he'd had the far harder run through the corporation - he'd been resurrected in a form no one had expected, considering the tentacles, lack of a nose and unusual skin.

It was even a surprise to Davy, who had noticed significant differences to what he knew the moment he'd regained consciousness; a breath of air came in either side of his face, rather than from the left alone. He'd quickly discovered the octopus-like pouch on the back of his head to be gone too, as with his crab-like arm and leg. All four limbs were simply discoloured human arms and legs...

Before long he found himself subjected to experiment after experiment as copious numbers of doctors and scientists tried to find the reason he was the way he was. Though he could understand them, his accent wasn't something they were accustomed to, and many simply disregarded him as not remarkably intelligent. Made sense to them, considering his 'mutations'. All this made for some dangerous frustrations for the sufferer involved.

A month of painful and at times humiliating procedures pressed on before anyone had any answers whatsoever. Jones had forced a full explanation out of one of the doctors when the rumours finally got the better of him - she relented, starting from the very beginning and explaining 'DNA' and the like to the mythical beast bordering on holding her hostage.

Jones' DNA, so it seemed, was once human...at this point, however, it was most definitely not. Quite a number of his genes had mutated - not in a dangerous or fatal way, but rather, in a way that simply described his mythological appearance in DNA form.

It meant that during the resurrection process, unlike Jack, Jones had not taken on his former human form. He'd been brought back in 'complete' form - instead of the mutations of the sea taking hold one by one, slowly, over time, they'd formed all at once, written to form directly from the DNA samples G-Corp had found. Evidently, they were from the old bones that had been dredged up from the bottom of the ocean...a detail he somehow wished they'd left alone.

All this information was threatening to throw Jack into overload. "So...uh...all that technobabble aside...why do you currently look a whole lot more like a man, rather than a...beast of sorts?"

"As I told you before, curses can take on different forms. This world hasn't completely lost its' magic yet..." Jones pulled one leg under the other - they'd been sitting on the rock wall a while by now, and it was starting to get a little uncomfortable. "I am no longer tied to the sea or the _Flying Dutchman_; the only thing I'm bound to is that _cursed_ form. I'm still a man deep down, or 'human' as they like to say nowadays; strangely enough it was about two months after I was resurrected that I discovered I could still take on a 'human' form."

Jack's gaze had long since fixed on the blinking lights way out in the harbour - but he had by no means tuned Jones out.

"The first time it happened there was pain beyond comprehension...I thought I was dying. It was like being torn apart from the inside out. Despite it all, when I awoke I found myself looking almost exactly as you see me now." He'd aptly left out the part where he'd simply fainted from pain overload.

"Over the next month it happened four times...erattically, but about once a week. Then I'd change back after two days or so. Thankfully...the return to the cursed form came with one single blessing...none of that absurd pain."

Jones could feel brown eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. Though it seemed a quick glare from his own pale blue orbs was enough to avert the stare. "So, like I said Sparrow, you've had it easy. Always have."

He snorted indignantly. "Not necessarily...easier than you perhaps, but it hasn't been a walk in the park you know."

Laughing heartily, Jones leaned back and glared right back at Sparrow. "You'll have to let me know next time you mutate into a sea creature and have umpteen dozen tests performed on you against your will."

"Disfigurement isn't the only thing in this world that's hard." Jack's expression mirrored Jones' own determined glare. "Anyway..." In an effort to diffuse what would normally lead to one of their epic arguments, Jack hopped up, marched over to the Legacy, and stabbed at the bonnet a few times with an extended index finger. "Why's this so different to mine when you put your foot down?"

"A few things..." Jones followed the shorter pirate over to the black beast. "Yours is unmodified. Mine has a somewhat larger turbo and exhaust...it used to be a twin-turbo, but I grew tired of the power curve...so it's been converted."

Jack's eyes glazed over. "I won't even pretend to understand all of that. Do you actually understand all of this technobabble rubbish yourself, Jones?"

"Aye, I do." He patted the Legacy's bonnet proudly. "It's not that hard."

Completely distracted, the pair managed to spend another entire hour simply talking - switching between events of the past, time spent at G-Corp and the two black vehicles parked in the lot. It seemed that while Jones was in this youthful human form, it was easy for Jack to all but forget who he was...and just as easy for Jones to let it lie.

It was only when a security guard warned them their cars would be locked in if they didn't rack off within five minutes that it seemed a good idea to move on.

"Right. So...I guess I'll write to you at some stage then, eh?" Jack started towards the Impreza.

"That's what this is for, lad." Jones, smirking, reached into a pocket and pulled out a cellphone.

Jack paused. "For what, exactly? I've been given one but have no idea what to do with it."

Rolling his bright eyes dramatically, Davy motioned for Jack to hand his over. Grudgingly he did so, watching intently as Jones fumbled with the phones - one in each hand.

"Quite simple, really. If we know what the number for each of these is, we can use them to contact each other. Strange technology...but simple concept."

As he tapped away awkwardly, Jones became aware of the fact that Jack couldn't possibly get closer if he tried - the pirate was leaning right over his shoulder, fascinated by the two glowing screens in each of Jones' hands.

"Jack. Did anyone ever tell you that you have no concept of personal space?" Jones glowered across at him.

Jack whipped back and settled himself sitting beside Jones. "Erm...no, actually."

"Well then just sit tight and watch, would'ye? I don't need you huffin' down m'neck."

A few taps later, Davy's phone roared to life with a violent buzz and high-pitched series of beeps. He just about damn near dropped the wretched thing in surprise.

"Blasted, confounded...there you go, there's my number." He handed the phone back to Jack.

"Yes but...well, thanks..." Jack tucked the phone back into a pocket. "I guess I'll see you round, then."

A half-hearted wave from both parties later, and Jack was on his way again. What an evening...he had plenty to think about, yet somehow he was convinced he'd get a good sleep. As the city partied on until the wee hours, headed home and Jack drifted off into the first both sound and sober sleep he'd had in well over a week. Nightmares no longer plagued his dreams - happy thoughts once again filled his mind as it sailed off into the abyss aboard the Black Pearl, still very much alive and afloat in his dreams.


End file.
